His voice came as a low murmur out of the night as he slipped in behind her. Giving her personal space by not coming too close, just close enough to be heard. Snow falling, sticking to the stocking cap he wore. Sticking to the shaggy dark strands that stuck out from beneath the hat. Landing on his shoulders as he stood with feet braced apart, hands in pockets of his jacket.
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] She turns, habit and reflex taking over, spinning away and around and staring at him without recognition for a couple of seconds. Her gaze is just as blank in this direction as towards the museum, until his eyes finally register. “Kemp,” she says. Someplace in that one word is a request, a question, but no explanation.
Nessa’s voice is hoarse. She’s definitely been prettier. Not that she is usually anything approaching lovely, but just now, the cold has reddened her nose some. Not the crying; her eyes are drooping as if half-asleep, but dry. The tears ran out days ago, leaving her painfully numb. Tired, but driven by that half-wildness inside her, unable to quite stop and just be still. She simply stares at him, her face framed by the hood of her heavy wool coat and the black waves that escape, catching snow. Intensely lonely.
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] (Windy city)
[Kemp Oates] He drew in a deep breath, taking in her appearance with a long white misted exhale before speaking while stepping closer.
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t make anything better. Doesn’t make the hurt go away, but it’s sincere. For your loss, for your pain, I’m sorry. What happened…”
Another deep inhale, letting it out slowly again.
“It was coming for awhile now. Shit built up. Don’t mean to speak ill of the dead and all, but ya should know. I’m glad he made ya happy. I’m glad ya had that in your life. And if I could make the pain go away, I would. And ain’t saying what happened was exactly right, but it was bound to happen.”
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] “i.. loved him. I have felt great pain, great horror before but nothing like this. ” Her breath makes a small cloud in front of her face as she speaks from her aching heart, shakes her head. “… I don’t understand. What shit?” Her accent is thick, every thought in the phlematic, pessimistic Russian before her mind translates for his benefit.
But he knows, doesn’t he? He understands something, and her eyes open just a little more, focus in on him, as she takes a small step closer to her…. friend? “You know my mate was murdered? Kendra said he was murdered. You know of this? She has told me nothing since she brought me his things. They were bloody, his blood all over them.”
Maybe she shoudl be edging towards hysteria with those words but she isn’t. Distant.
[Kemp Oates] He turned his head and spit.
“Murdered? Fuckin bitch. She tries to run the fuckin Moot, boss everyone around and now she twists this shit around too.”
Fighting the rush of rage that lanced through him.
“Listen, he was like me. He was what even Murder Queen is. Ya know what I mean. It means we don’g fuckin get murdered. It means we all have the same fuckin chance to fight, to survive. Every single moot, he would start shit. Start it with the Eagles. It was like we were his pet peeve. Yet what I think it was, is he wanted more than he had and the only way to feel that way was to beat us down. But he couldn’t. Now mind ya, I’d match tongues and wits with him any day. Pissing contests, whatever. I had no problem with his ass. Way I saw it was, hell a chance to meet one head to head, mind to mind, wits to wits. But what he did was challenge the pack. First time he challenged all of us and then rescended. This last time, lots of shit went wrong. I ain’t going into ever little detail, but he started the challenging shit. I met him mind for mind. Then in the middle of this shit, ole Michael the Lord starts his whining, mealy mouth shit with Deck. Then Kendra jumps up grabs the bone and starts threatening everyone like some little girl, that if we didn’t talk about what she wanted, then no one was talking or else. Well shit, that’s like a red flag to point out she ain’t no one’s momma. Then Michael has to push more, mouthing and belittling. Neither fuck head has the wits Gaia gave a pile of shit. They got no honor. If they did, they would respect rank. But no, they got to act the big wolf. And that got Michael what he begged for. Well, your man had to make a jump for Deck’s back. At least, that sure as fuck was the way it looked from my angle and others. And some of my pack jumped in to block him. Blows were quickly exchanged, then came challenges and name calling. He challenged three of my pack, Nessa. Now, what came next is more shit. And let’s say that after the smoke cleared, we were out of there. And even though the challenge should of been handled differently? Hot heads and insults don’t always think that way. Those challenged, went to see it was done and over with. Like I said, things could of gone differently, but it was face to face. He weren’t jumped from behind. He weren’t held down and killed. It was fuckin face to face. The one was faster than the other is what it was. Could of went either way.”
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] She visibly tenses up, tightens, her hands clenching hard in her gloves. She was porcelain pale before; the shade she turns while he relates something entirely not what Kendra had, something entirely unlike what she knew of her mate, is not a healthy shade in the least.
Her hand, gloved in black leather, raises, half in request, half in protest. “He died in challenge? honorable challenge? Is ahh legal? Is sounding so unlike him, Kemp. He was so wise. Among my tribe– he was only one for me to respect nicely that i have met. To not fear. He taught me not to be ashamed of what i am. What our strength is. And he kept me safe from… those who would hurt me. You say he is not murdered, that is proper challenge, that he did and lost? Is honorable death?”
His word, against Kendra’s then. Who is she likely to believe? There is desperation in her eyes.
[Kemp Oates] “It was not handled through the Sept Nessa. He made the challenge there at the Moot before the Sept. It was told when it would happen, but we ain’t part of that no more.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek as his body tensed and he grew silent for several moments. Finally lifting his head to meet her eyes in the dark.
“He made the fuckin challenge, and while it weren’t done as it should of been. Ya can’t fuckin kick people, piss on them, spit on them for their birth. Spit on their honor, over and over and not have something come of it. He did. He done pushed it and pushed it and ground it in and the fight was taken to him. And like I said, while it weren’t done where and how it would of been? It was face to face Nessa. There was no ambush, there was no attack from behind. It was done like it would be done if two enemies met on the street at the same moment. Weren’t done with no warning. Weren’t murder. That is bullshit. He had a chance, he weren’t tied down nor held. He just weren’t as fast with his claws as he was with his hate and in the end, that hate came back and bit him on the ass. That’s what it all boils down to. Hate. Ya hate, ya belittle, ya degrade and like Karma, it comes back on ya one day. Shit has a habit of doing that.”
Breathing out slowly.
“Im glad he made ya happy. Glad he gave ya what ya needed. Glad he made ya feel special. Hell, glad ya had love. But the love he felt for you and what he felt for others, weren’t the same. Never is. There’s always two sides to everyone. Ya saw one. Another saw the other.”
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] Deep and haunted. His words are horrible, full of wisdom and too much truth and a kindness she can barely stand. Wants in spite of herself.
“I knew that… there were others who did not appreciate him as I did.” And that is an understatement if ever there were one. “But i have never heard this about him. He was… vehement. Absolute. Fanatical I think. Is why he was so easy to believe. He was always so certain, so full of truth.”
Her tears begin to fall, a wet heat on her face, chilling fast. She has barely spoken about him since he died, barely spoken at all. “Is hard, to hear other side. I… do not know what to do now. I think i would be told that is for my people to have revenge. Reprisal. But I do not think he would say that. The others would. Besides, is you say, challenge lost. Is done. And the one who killed him. You have not said so exactly but is your pack, this person. Metis named Anne. What would you do, Kemp? If it was your friend who told you this, about your fallen mate? Could you accept it? You are wiser than me. You taught me first about freedom. There is truly no one else i coudl ask. And i have sworn never to work against you or your pack, for the… respect i have for you. So what would you do, in my place? If your love lay buried where mine does?”
Her words could be accusing, but instead, they plead as the tears fall.
[scuttlebutt] (FYI: I would love to join the scene. I do not mean to keep everyone else OOC. But I’m not good enough to multitask, and owe Tish my full attention in her scene. Elsewise, I’d be IC!)
[AnneMarie Hoch] It’s never ending, the miles she will put in on foot throughout the city. It is a rare few that can ever say she ever sits idle. Perhaps it is because she is so often shunned for any attempt. Perhaps it is that she sees it as duty, perhaps there is a lot more to the Silent Metis then even her pack have discovered, let alone those who barely know her by sight. Perhaps, it is because she is too stubborn to try.
Get shot down enough, and you quit trying.
Her footsteps are graceful, her stride long, her movement without pause. One in the park can feel her come near – not by design, but rather by chance. The other would be unaware, as she has yet to round the curve of the path. Her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, she simply walks and watches and most of all, listens to all around.
[Kemp Oates] He drew in another deep breath. Her pain touched things he had worked at burying for a long, long time. Keeping his gaze level on her’s as he spoke softly. His voice a low vibration, coming out on a white mist.
“What I would do and what you would do are two different worlds Nessa. I can’t fully comprehend what you feel inside. I’ve lost before. I’ve dealt with it. You’ve lost before and while it never goes away, you’ve learned how to move on and live with it. You’ll do that again, it’s just the way life works. Those left behind, deal and survive. Ya can do that. Now, he might of been absolute, fanatical, vehement, but full of truth? Truth is only worth what it is from your point of view. Cause what is truth to you, might not be truth to me. All I can tell ya is, there’s not a single fuckin one of us that ain’t flawed. Not a one. And what he might of seen as truth, weren’t always so. And the truth of the matter is, he had a real problem with the Eagles and it ate at him from the inside. It was clear as glass to me. It’s why it was so easy to push his buttons. And truth is, he had a real problem with those not of his Tribe and those not born as fortunate as we should be. Those born from two of us fuckin. And yeah, the fight that ended him was with Annemarie. But it was not a murder. That is total fuckin drama queen bullshit, that some little Cliath would do well to take a second look at before she opens her mouth and sticks her foot in it again.”
Slowly, hesitantly reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder, murmuring lower.
“I’m sorry for your loss Nessa. Don’t let poison eat at your soul. Take the good, hold on to it. Hoarde it like your life depends on it. But always remember the flaws too, cause the other way will just build something dark inside ya. It’ll stop ya from living fully.”
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] She makes one more request, as her lips shape his name, as no sound emerges. The night is too cold for the warmth of his hand to seep through the layered wool she wears, but the emotion– that she can feel. She’s empathic from her opened heart; what he offers, what he seems to offer, does not break her as much as lances a wound. Her own gloved hand reaches up to clasp his as she partially folds into the touch, her body shaking with silent sobs.
Needs a friend. Needs one rather terribly.
[Kemp Oates] “I can’t promise nothings gonna be ok, Nessa. And pain never goes away, but it does become tempered, more bearable.”
Reaching around her to pull her close in against his body with a murmured.
“I’m sorry.”
As he started to rub her back like a parent soothing a child.
[AnneMarie Hoch] She rounds the corner in time to see Nessa fold into Kemp’s embrace and cry. Her steps pause, just a touch, a hitch in movement. There is a decision to make, and for once, she hesitates in making it. Her path takes her past them, and in the end, she continues to move in her previous direction, along the edge of the path where Kemp holds Nessa.
She will walk by, unless stopped, and she is fully prepared for any backlash in the audacity of continuing by – she never shirks from unwelcome conversations, though she also never stays where unwelcome.
She is many things – but she is no coward.
[Kemp Oates] Slowly his head cocked as that familiar feel sang along his nerves, touching that sixth sense of pack. Just as slowly he lifted his head, turning to look straight in Annemarie’s direction as he rubbed Nessa’s back, holding her with soft little nonsense sounds of comfort. At least, his attempt at comforting another. It was hard to be a warrior and try to offer something to someone so different. Around his bunch, pain was held in or let out in a wild moment of rage. Then it was buried again and hoarded like some dark poison you only drank when no one was around.
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] Shadowlords are not generally known for their weepy soft sides. Nessa is not the average example of her side, flashing both simultanously, rarely and at a Strong Powerful Tough Fenrir, nonetheless. In fact, she would have been content to let him deal with anything that came by, just to let go for the release of the built up everything. Hatred, poison, anger, grief, love, guilt all of it. Mostly, the darkest of those were diffused by exhaustion, by Kemp’s words. Perhaps he is the mind-reader, and not her.
She could heal, from this point. She could live, find away to regrow what feels torn out. Tomorrow there could be hope.
Annemarie however is ahroun. The sensation of rage skims along her spine, adding a sensation of threat, danger to the mix and as the metis nears, Nessa stirs somewhat, as if to look around. She would, if Kemp were to let go immediately, turn to see her mate’s killer walk by. Perhaps he will will keep her folded against his chest though. And he’s by far tall enough to block the view from the other side.
[AnneMarie Hoch] She meets that gaze head on, a brow lifting slightly. A whisper of Eagle wings along his mind, the barest touch of her voice. She is often as silent there by choice, as she is by necessity otherwise. She knows too well his hatred of her voice in his head, she knows too well the hatred of many things. The words? simple.
If she wishes to lash out, I am ready to accept that. I know well the pain of losing a.. of loss. The choice is hers, and yours.
The bobble in the words, the hesitation is perhaps quick enough to go un-noted, and perhaps unquestioned.
[Kemp Oates] He nodded with a lift of his chin as he spoke across the link before speaking to Nessa.
~I will tell her. Pain is a dangerous thing. It can fester and kill a soul. But when it is new like this, it can also lash out. Can you take it without striking out physically if she blows? Ain’t no fight with her and I know ya know that, just poingint it out before the shit hits the fan.~
“Nessa, ya feel the need to speak to Annemarie about any of this?”
[AnneMarie Hoch] A nod. Simple. I will not lift a hand to her, Kemp. I am not like that.
There is something under those words too. Regret, perhaps, that he would think that of her. Two packmates, two days. Sometimes, she misses Jukebox more then she’d ever admit. She leaves it all undefined, and simply watches the area, a sweep of pale gaze, before her eyes return to the pair ahead of her.
[Kemp Oates] ~Heh, didn’t think so.~
He’d almost said the tongue could wound more than a claw, but caught himself.
[Kemp Oates] It occured to him that he rather be anywhere but here right now. Between a Kin dealing with sudden unexpected loss and a Mute. Shit, that meant he had to play interpetuer and shit, already he was getting hemaroids with the thought. Keeping Nessa’s head against his shoulder with one hand to the back of her head.
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] She jerks, going tense. Nessa isnt particularly ready for this. One would want to be prepared, poised, grim amd properly wrapped in the dignity and threat of one’s tribe. Instead, she is still tear-covered, rednosed, icy cold and exhausted. It’s not fear on her face, not hatred and fury yet. Perhaps something waiting to be defined.
“I want to know–if she has –anything to say to me, first.” Her words are to Kemp, her eyes fixed in pain on his shoulder, anything but controlled and poised. “You came to me. I think you were hunting me, da? Is she?”
Nessa knows what rage is. what it feels like.
[Kemp Oates] “Naw, fuck she is minding her own damned business. If ya don’t want to say anything, then she’ll move on and leave ya to your grieving. She ain’t here to hurt ya. What happened was completely outside what you feel now and what you are. She ain’t stupid Nessa. So ya make the call.”
[AnneMarie Hoch] She remains standing where she is, steadfast, strong. Her hands in the pockets of her jacket, her pale gaze unflinching, awaiting the verdict. Remain there, take what she wishes to dish, answer questions. Or, move on, and continue her walk.
[Kemp Oates] fading y’all, gotta step it up.
to Agnessa Malikoff Harah, AnneMarie Hoch, scuttlebutt
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] She pushes against his hand, straightens. One hand reaches to wipe tears away, as she turns to face her lover’s mur– killer. Killer. Not murderer, Kemp said. Limpets onto those words. Either that, or let what waits consumer her. Just like Kemp said.
She swallows, raises her eyes to Annemarie’s face. Smaller, an average woman’s height, she really does have to look up.
“Baaku Harah the Agony Thane was my mate. He showed me how to fight off possession by bane, when i was nearly lost. He protected me from Mr. Volaschky, who tried to claim me and threatened to rape me, if i would not agree to that mating. He protected me from our own tribe, where i would havae been badly hurt. There is no one between me and those sorts of dangers now. Does it weigh at all, to know this? Does it matter, that I am alone, when you killed my mate? Was it worth it? Do the mates matter, when the battle is over?”
[AnneMarie Hoch] She doesn’t move, she doesn’t do anything but listen. She knows that Kemp will relay her message when she speaks it, word for word. It is difficult to be in his position, and she absolves him of it, this responsibility, by removing her hands from her pocket, and using her white board instead.
While I do not regret my actions, for they were a challenge, and while I hold not the respect for your mate that he cultivated in you, I am sorry for your loss. I would do no different had I the chance. That does not mean I do not feel your pain – contrary to most belief, my kind are not incapable of it.
[Kemp Oates] He winced when she started speaking. Dragging a hand over his face before placing it on Nessa’s shoulder from behind.
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] “I was told that you murdered my mate. If it was true… you would have had to kill me too. Kemp has said it was challenge, so i will show you something you did not know about my mate. He was not the worst of our tribe. He was perhaps not the best, ” and she looks at Kemp, the turns her teary gaze to Annemarie again, “But the worst, or even the average, or even one of the best woudl tell me that i shoudl avenge his death. For you to kill one of us, you would be killed. No other alternative. And i would be… thought badly of if i did not avenge.
He would want justice. Not revenge. And since is challenge-death, is not justice to murder you in turn. So i will do what he would want, and not try to see you dead too. And i will be thought very badly of, for being freind to Kemp who is in your pack. And… there is more that is bad that will probably happen as result of what you have done, and it will happen to me and Baaku will not be there to protect me. For you it is over, and for me this is only beginning.”
It is all she wished to say. Annemarie will feel guilt, very likely, even if Nessa has to pound it into her head. But not today. Nessa is too tired, to heartsick to open more. She starts to turn back towards Kemp, and away from revenge thoughts.
Tries to at least.
[AnneMarie Hoch] She listens – again. And then she writes once more, and takes a step closer to put it in front of Nessa to read.
I wish no ill for you, Agnessa. You cannot help your tribe, no more then I my birth. It is not my doing that puts you here, but fate. If not me, another. If not challenge, war. Should someone wrongfully attack a kin – ANY kinfolk – in my presence, they will be dealt with – but what you wish for me to feel, I cannot. I will not. We can only be that which we are. No more, no less. You know how to reach me should you need help or protection. I would not begrudge any kinfolk that, least of all you.
And when it is read, she turns, to leave them in peace.
[Kemp Oates] He pursed his lips before finally saying one last thing.
“Listen, what others think don’t mean shit. It’s what you think. And talk of murder and revenge?”
Shaking his head slowly.
“Bad road Nessa. This place, our kind, are tearing themselves apart from the inside. This shit, they won’t let it lay. They have to go on and on and on while we destroy each other from the inside. I know you’re hurt and I know ya want to strike out. But think, that’s all I ask. As for what others think? I really, honest to Gaia, don’t give a flying monkey fuck. Now if ya want an escort back home? I ain’t scared of those fuckers. I’ll take ya there, right up to the fuckin door and piss on them. If ya want to be alone, I get that too.”
Lifting his chin to Annemarie as she shows the board and withdraws.
~Ya done good holding your temper. Be careful on your rounds.~
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] Its her footstep in the snow-covered pavement that makes Nessa turn and read the words. There’s a half-laugh, derision of sorts. “I am not ashamed of my tribe. Only those who are not strong enough to be what they were born to be, who substitute cruelty for strength. That Baaku taught me as well. Our tribe IS of the nation. We are not the Wyrm. I accept what apology you have made. Thank you for your offer of protection.”
The last two, those might be slightly loaded statements. If she ever changes her mind about the revenge, there’s the key right there.
Good thing nessa’s a NICE Shadowlord. Ahem.
But the next is not, as she turns to Kemp. “Think fo what i have said. I have just relinquished revenge, Kemp. Please, yes take me home. I want to go. Now. Please.”
Its so damned cold outside.
[AnneMarie Hoch] A nod, slight, for Nessa.
Wry, the slight smirk she shares with Kemp. Totem phone Thank you. Contrary to popular belief, there is much more to me then meets the eye. Self-control is the least of my talents. Watch your back out there.
Sometimes, she is more lonely here, in the pack, then she was before. Sometimes, she wonders things that she should not wonder. Most times, however, she does as she always does. Her duty, in silence.
[Kemp Oates] Thanks guys, I can still get 4hrs sleep before work. Night!
to Agnessa Malikoff Harah, AnneMarie Hoch
[Agnessa Malikoff Harah] (thanks for scene! Sleep well when you do!)
to AnneMarie Hoch, Kemp Oates
[AnneMarie Hoch] (Ditto! *s*)
to Agnessa Malikoff Harah, Kemp Oates